Sequels
by DanelleSephton
Summary: Roxane knew it wasn't right to dwell in the past, least of all a dark one, but she just couldn't bring it to herself to forgive the boy. DarkOneshot on Roxane's veiw of Farid after the death of her husband. Warning: blood, cutting, lanague, and Inkspell spoilers.


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SEQUEL  
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Roxane knew it wasn't right to dwell in the past, least of all a dark one, but she just couldn't bring it to herself to forgive the boy

The boy had followed around her husband everywhere.

He copied his movements.

He worked to make that proud smirk grace his scarred face.

He wanted her love's attention.

And he got it.

More than he bargained for.

And now, Dustfinger was dead.

And it was his fault.

Roxane was an intelligent woman, and she knew it wasn't his fault and to go on blaming him wasn't only childish and stupid, but probably damaging to the boy.

Dustfinger loved him, so much he gave up everything (including her) to save the him.

And yet, what the boy wanted so much, his love, burned his spirit to a crisp.

It was too much.

But only Roxane saw this.

The boy with the odd name, Farid, and the strange look, was broken. He too felt he was to blame for the death of the Fire Dancer. Roxane could see it in his black eyes. She saw the sadness and pain inside his very soul. Farid could probably tell both wife and daughter of his father-figure hated him. Roxane wasn't blind: she knew Meggie and her family weren't to pleased with him. The Black Prince only allowed him into the robber's camp out of pity and respect for his life-long friend. Even Dustfinger's marten was mad with him.

He was swimming alone in unknown waters.

And he was drowning.

Quickly.

Roxane was walking back from a long day in the fields, when she could hear it. Sobbing.

Weeping, desperate, pathetic sobbing.

She turned, and there he was, a little farther away, in woods beneath a canopy of oaks. Crying his eyes out. In his tears and sorrow, he didn't see her. He probably thought no one would find him here, it was an older road.  
The rough and cold exterior of Roxane told her to keep moving and just ignore him, leaving him to wallow in self-pity.

But, watching the boy she had hated weep in such away, something inside reminder her of something she'd seen before.

She remembered a nine year old boy with sandy red hair and a black eye sitting beneath a tree deep in the woods, fighting off his tears, with a small, young marten lounging at his side, hiding from a beating he knew was waiting for him at the orphanage.

She remembered a thirteen year old who wouldn't stop to think of himself when defending his friends (in away, his family too), but would go off and cry alone when he would refuse to fight his dark skinned friend when he was upset that he wouldn't help him save a black bear cub from its captor.

She remembered a young man who refused to back down from his worst enemy when said enemy wanted Roxane and her love, and the young man paid the price.

And she remembered the nine year old, the thirteen year old, and young man, who all saved her life, all surfacing at once as Dustfinger held the boy's corpse in his arms in a secluded cave deep in the earth, as all the pain and insecurity he felt for years reach the surface, sending tears of despair, pain, fear, and mostly love.

Roxane remembered the look Dustfinger had with his dying breath.  
It had been one of a worried father, with his son in mind.

And here was that son, crumbled up and broken on the ground beneath the trees his surrogate father loved so much, crying bitter tears of anguish. He couldn't take the torment anymore. At moment, the boy needed Dustfinger.  
His wife would have to do.

"The boy," Roxane kneeled in front of the boy, putting a hand on his shoulder, "Farid."

He looked up at her with shock for a second, then continued to sob, "Leave me alone..."Just like him, thought Roxane, Too proud to admit defeat...

She looked him in the eye, "No." The boy tried to get up and run away from her, but it seemed almost like his pain out weight him, and he fell back

"If you don't stop moving you'll pass out," smirked Roxane, realizing his weakened state was more than emotional, "You look pale, what happened? Were you attacked?"

The boy ignored her, "Go."

Roxane was about to say some rather choose words she wouldn't allow Jehan to hear when she felt something wet gather onto her dress.  
Blood

Roxane was a little startled, but quickly regained her stance and searched for the source of the blood flow, on which when found, she was shocked even more.

He cut himself.

It came that far.

The boy- no, Farid, he deserved to have a name, right?- had given up. He gave in. But Roxane wouldn't stand for it.

She moved as quickly as a woman in shock could, bringing the boy to his feet and half-supported-half-carried Farid to her farm. Pushing him on to the bed, she rushed and grabbed some gauze and disinfecting medical cream. Farid was so weak he didn't even put up a fight. Roxane quickly staunched the bleeding, applied the cream to his wrists, and wrapped them. She then looked him in the eye and glared hard, not an angry glare like before, but that kinda glare you get from your mom when you come into the kitchen dripping in mud.

Dustfinger loved you," she said, "He loved you so much that he gave up everything for you. He gave his life to make sure you were safe. He didn't care if Brianna, Meggie, the Bluejay, or even if I said anything about you. He loved you. He loved you like his own son. You didn't see how he looked when he held your your broken corpse in his arms and screamed bloody murder in the middle of a godforsaken hole in the ground. He just wanted you to be happy. If you want to defile his wishes and throw away the last thing Dustfinger gave you, go ahead, but know this. If you do, Dustfinger died for nothing."

Roxane stood up and walked out of the farmhouse, leaving Farid alone.

Roxane hated to admit it, but the boy was some how growing on her. Is this how Dustfinger felt towards him? Is this why he died? Either way, Roxane had lost one belief.

Her husbands death was not Farid's fault.

Nor was Dustfinger really dead

No, he was still alive.

Dustfinger was alive through the boy.

Farid was her husband's son.

Her husband's joy.

Her husband's pride.

Farid was all that was left of him.

He was a reincarnation.

A blessing.

A new chance.

He was a sequel to the story of the Fire-Dancer.

At least, that's what Roxane would tell the Prince the next morning when he asked why Roxane made Farid move into the farm.

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A\N: Hello, I'm alive. I just found my copy of Inkheart the other day and this happened. not really my best but still...  
if you think i should do more tell me. i'm open to requests  
:{ mustache says review


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